Date night in a jar
(Could be altered to be best friend dates in a jar)
I used big popsicle sticks and spray painted them different colors. Each color represents a different type of date (and each color is explained on the tag) and the white sticks were used as fillers.
Red sticks have more expensive dates on them that require planning on our part.
- Bed and Breakfast
- Dinner at a fancy restaurant
- Hotel stay for the night
- Auburn home game and away game
- Concert and dinner (his choice)
- Concert and dinner (my choice)
- Weekend away
- Couples Massage
Dark pink sticks have “at home” dates:
- Chopped Challenge (like the television show on FoodNetwork)
- Fondue and Almost Famous
- Takeout and board games
- 1,000 piece puzzle and pizza
- Football game and nachos
- Popcorn and a chick-flick
- Crosswords and breakfast for dinner
- Make a dessert together
- Friday Night Lights marathon
- Homemade pizzas and an Italian movie
Light Pink dates have things we can do away from home but are less expensive than the red and don’t require as much planning.
- Dinner and a movie (my choice and his choice)
- Laser tag and go carts
- Mexican night at Cocina Superior
- Drive-In date
- Dessert only date
- Window shopping for the house
- The Melting Pot
- Coffee Date
Did my sudden lack of common trust come about because of your unwanted lust? All I could say was “No, stop, get off me,” yet all your mind thought was, “I’m in control, she’s weak, she can’t stop me.” You wanted IT. But my mind— IT haunted it. For a week now, flashbacks have filled my mind, causing nightmares and keeping me sleep-deprived.
Your hands trespassed against my body, one holding both of mine down, while I shouted at you to just get off me. You kept telling me, “No, it’s okay,” as you continued with your bullshit, when it was never fucking okay to begin with. Your hands and lips continued their intrusion and my body was in a state of confusion. From past occurrences as such, I learned that it’s supposed to feel good when you’re gonna fuck. But that.. It didn’t feel good whatsoever and in the back of my mind, I knew it wasn’t gonna feel any better.
So I took a chance and and landed a wild right hook and got away before you even had the chance to look. I wasn’t planning on looking back but I heard you yell “Fuck you!” so I smirked, turned around, and yelled, “I know you want to, but now you never will,” and walked off, middle finger flipped, momentarily thrilled.
I thought I’d be okay and be able to just brush it all off, but with the passing of the days that followed, I clearly thought wrong. The nightmares have all been the same: you winning your sick, twisted game. It doesn’t even seem like much, when I recount what happened, but if anyone were to put theirself in my shoes that night, they’d know how traumatized I’d been.
I loved hugging people, before that night. Afterwards, for a few days, whenever someone hugged me, I’d freeze up, not feeling right. Hell, whenever someone touched me, I’d tense up so bad.. I could write more about what you’ve done, but enough, I’ve had.
I forgot some of your family doesn’t like me. That hurt. And honestly I think that’s part of the reason why I let myself drift away from you. I used the fact that we don’t see each other as often as before as a scapegoat. I honestly kinda miss those old days. But..that’s all they’ll ever be. Old days. The past.
But truth be told, the only barrier keeping me from attempting to rebuild a friendship with you would be that controlling, brainwashing, Y chromosome-possessing .. creature.
:/ Life goes on.
I swear it’s like the idiosyncrasies I came to love of each person I’ve been involved with all combine and make up the the ideal person I would doubtlessly want to spend the rest of time and beyond with, aka the foremost f-word I’d hate to ever come out of my mouth (aside from ‘finna’): forever.
If only my constant thoughts of such idealness would physically manifest so that the vacancy in my heart would be occupied no less and no more than it should be.
Fuck you, you, and you. After June 6th, you and everyone else like you will be completely irrelevant to me.
So fucking relevant. I can’t wait to get out of this shit hole. Thank goodness.. After this week, one more fucking last semester of this hellhole. I’m so fucking excited.
YES. YES YES YES YES. YES.
It shouldn’t be that much of a surprise, honestly.
And then. They ask one of the questions I despise with a flaming passion:
WHEN DID YOU DECIDE TO BE BI?
When I fucked your mom last night.
It was never a decision for me, dumbshit.
Everyone’s perception of perfection is completely different; hence, “To each, their own.” Yet, despite the fact that everyone has an individual perspective of perfection, the media causes distortion to the unique images of perfection we each have in mind. The look of perfection constantly differentiates with each generation, and it becomes more ridiculous as time passes.
Simplicity was once viewed as a desirable quality, but now, any simple girl is just deemed plain and boring.
How bad has it become? The most beautiful girl you see can have levels of self-esteem nearly non-existent. Others may perceive her as the epitome of perfection, but to her own worst enemy — herself — she is the primary example of what she does not want to be. Why? Society.
The social norms have become more and more ridiculous over time, and they’re taking more serious tolls than before. Adolescents catch on to what media deems as “in” at younger and younger ages. The result? Teens beginning to smoke, drink, do drugs, starve themselves, or do anything else that causes permanent damage to their still-developing bodies. They start wearing more and more provocative clothing at younger ages, and think that it’s okay.
Upcoming generations seem to have lost sight of the fact that they don’t have to conform to what the media portrays as socially acceptable. They’re blinded by the media’s portrayal of so-called perfection as females who are either impossibly skinny or have the perfect curves, or males who have a six pack. Despite all pressure exerted on them to conform, they do not have to. But they still do. Because they don’t want to be outcasts. Because they don’t want to be made fun of. They want to fit in. But nobody really ever fits in, because everybody is different.
Due to the media’s influence on us, we often take our differences from each other for granted. If everybody fit in.. If everyone had the same exact personality and physical attributes as all others of their gender.. There would be no variety. None of us would have any amount of substance behind ourselves whatsoever due to the fact that there are no idiosyncrasies among us. We’d all be a bunch of boring people that can’t even be referred to as individuals because we’re all one in the same.
Respect yourselves and those around you, and accept what makes you unique. You can put yourself down and pick at what you think are your flaws due to a lack of self-esteem or whatever, but you need to know that what distinguishes you from everyone else is what makes you beautiful, because there is literally nobody else in the world like you. Stay true to yourself, and don’t bother striving for perfection, because the effort you put into that will just be effort wasted. You do not need to be “perfect” to be beautiful. You are one of a kind, and you are beautiful.
Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You. - Dr. Seuss
LMAO@HEAVY FLOW & WIDESET VAGINA
I love herrr. (:
Oh look, Tumblr on my tv! (;